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Copyright 2005 Handjob. All Rights Reserved.

SurfSpray

Handjob

It lifted into a high bright curving
arc that seemed to hang in casual suspense, then finally took
this long
slow curl forward, cascading down and crashing with a near-white splash
against
the dark surface. That was what had
really caught Kent's interest in the first place. Not
the waves offshore, not the sights and
sounds along the beach, not even the way Wes surfed just as well as any
of the
pro-boys. Nope. It
was the faultless way that fine straight
shock of Wes' bright blond hair flew over his forehead, sprayed out
playfully
against his deep summer-tanned skin, and swept straight off the side of
his
face.

Kent had
watched it every summer now for the last few years.
It faintly fluttered in the light breeze
under an early sun as Wes would grab his board off the bed of his
little pickup
truck, stroll casually across the sand and stride out to the water.
Or at the end of a long afternoon, the
straight dark mass that was plastered against Wes' forehead would
slowly
lighten while it dried under the long rays, his slender fingers finally
sweeping up through it absently once, letting that perfect light blonde
arc
slide right back into place.

That was
it. That awesome
couldn't-give-a-shit-but-perfect-just-the-same blond hair, straight and
cut
short except for that cool little flip over the side of his forehead:
that's
finally what really made Kent get a board himself last summer.

Aw, I don't
mean it was just the hair or anything.
Wes had it all: tall, smooth, defined swimmer's build, steel
blue eyes, and
a face that made every babe take one look and just know he had to be
the
hottest fuck on the beach. He got 'em,
too -- a lot.

And hey wait;
it's not that young Kent didn't get plenty of looks, too, man.
His eighteen-year-old frame was fuller than
Wes', but it was gym-chiseled and cut perfectly. And
even though his jet black hair and quiet
dark green eyes were a real contrast against Wes, his face was just as
awesome-looking and the chicks were fuckin' dyin' to get boned by him.
The difference, of course, is that Kent had
to work at it: comb the hair, pump the iron, snap some zits, search for
the
right clothes -- all that fuckin' shit to try and look just right.
It worked, but it was everything Wes had
never had to give one fuckin' thought to in his whole nineteen years.
It made Kent want to be just like him.
And that made Kent want to get close to
him. And not only did that turn Kent
into a surfer -- it turned him on to something else he'd never felt
before.

Wes
wouldn't know that, of course. He didn't
really know much of anything actually, and it would never occur to him
that his
natural studfuck looks and style would be magnetizing to Kent -- or the
main
reason why they would be. Wes only
thought waves, and the fucker was mindlessly straight as a skeg besides.
But inside, Kent knew why.
At first he had all the right reasons, like
the hair, ya know? The dude was so cool,
so perfect, everything Kent wanted to be like and be around.
But after a long while he finally admitted it
was more, if only way deep down back in the nastiest corner of his mind.
Somethin' about Kent was goin' queer for
another boy, for Wes.

Fuck, how
could it be? Kent was one of the coolest
guys around. He was new to the surf
maybe, but he was just as graceful a jock.
All through high school every dude admired his athletic skill on
the diamond,
and every chick chased his tight ass. Hell,
he liked girls -- and he had boned a
few. "Dudes like that aren't
queer," he told himself, ". . . except me sorta." And
then each night, in the darkness of his
room, after resisting as long as he could keep the thoughts out,
finally he'd
break down and do it. Very slowly, his
fingers would slide under the waistband of his Calvin’s while his
thoughts
drifted nastily over Wes' body.

"So
like it was this totally krakkin' ass day on the waves, huh dude?"
The carefree SoCal voice yanked Kent back to
the beach. There was Wes, standing in
front of him, dripping with saltwater, jamming his board into the sand
beside
Kent while he whipped a towel around and began mopping his dark,
hairless
chest. "You looked derelict out
there today, dude -- no shit," he said with a pearly smile as he
fumbled
with his boardshorts.

Kent tried
not to stare at the small brown nipples, the tips pointing stiffly out
off of
Wes' tight flat pecs, as Kent continued stuffing his things into a
small
gymbag. "uh . . . wow, thanks.
I'm really only just getting started at it
though."

"Yeah,
I know. I've been watching -- more this
summer than last though. But I've seen
ya. No shit, dude, yer startin' to kick.
No grom, mind ya."

" . .
. thanks . . . ."

"--Wes. I heard it's 'Kent', right?"

"Yeah,
I . . . uh . . . Kent." And then
Kent just stared stupidly. With all his
regular buds he never had to think twice in a conversation.
But right now, he could only stare back,
unable to think of anything cool enough to say.

Actually,
he didn't even make Kent wait till they got to Wes' place for that.
By the time the bare-chested boys had their
boards in the back of Wes' truck and had settled into the cab, Wes had
popped a
beer from an ice-chest and tossed it to Kent as Wes concentrated on the
drive
and the truck squealed out onto Pacific Coast Highway.

Suddenly
Wes took a sharp screeching right and began heading steeply up a
winding road
into the hills above Malibu. "Yer
gonna love this place I got, dude," he boomed over the radio.

Kent could
only wonder. He couldn't believe this
was happening at all. In minutes a
little bit of a buzz started setting in from the brew though, and soon
Kent was
lightening up, answering questions, telling Wes about how he was
falling for
surfing, how he’d miss the baseball team now that he'd be leaving his
high
school buddies behind, but how he was also getting stoked about going
to UCLA
this fall.

"Yup,
the kegs are cool and the chicks'll make ya drool."
Wes had not gone on to college, he said, at
least not yet, but he was invited to all the parties.
"A frat would be cool. You gonna
rush? Try the DIKs.
Great way to get pussy. Hey, you
got a woman, bro?"

"Well
. . . no. I was going out with this one
girl, but. . . ."

"Hey,
yeah, I know how it is. Blew off mine
about three weeks ago and haven't been gettin' any either.
Nobody I really want right now. Lotta
this,
right?" Wes' hand dropped into a
fist in his lap, and he pumped at the air lazily. "Man,
my fuckin' nads are so stuffed
they're gonna crack soon." He
looked out the side window over the canyon, and his voice got soft,
nearly
drowned out by the radio. "No big
deal though, I guess. I'll get it
soon." He paused, lit a cigarette
and said softly, "besides, I always did sorta get off on spankin' the
stick." He stared off dreamily for
a second, then added in an almost-whisper to himself, "smackin' off's
pretty sweet, actually." Finally he
grinned and winked. "And besides,
yer hand don't cost ya dinner, huh dude?"
Kent just hoped the boner that was suddenly springin' up in his
trunks
didn't show. He willed it away as best
he could.

In another
minute they were there, the sun dropping quickly as Wes searched around
in his
shorts for a key. At first Kent thought
they were just going through the garage into the house, but once Wes
opened the
small side door and pushed Kent in with a friendly arm, it was obvious
that
this one room, a barely converted one-car garage, was all of Wes' place.

It was
wild. There was junk everywhere:
cardboard boxes, sports equipment, a bike in mid-repair, and piles of
clothes. Plastering the walls were tons
of surfing posters, several of Wes' favorite Penthouse centerfolds, and
a
Miller beer sign he'd ripped off from some bar.

And so they
stumbled in across the oily cement floor.

At one side
of the garage was an old sofa loaded down with more stuff.
Nearby a neon sculpture of a palm tree glowed
softly beside a low beat up table with a TV and cheap VCR.
And in the far corner was a sort of makeshift
curtainless shower in a tiled basin that was only partially walled off.

"The
can's in there," Wes pointed out, nodding at a door that used to lead
into
a tiny utility closet. "I just got
this place a couple months ago. My
first. Cool, huh?" It
smelled half like the seashore and half
like a locker room. Kent instantly loved
it, too. He could picture the babes
getting balled all night long into the sofa, slapping with the sound of
getting
rammed by a bonehard teenboy.

Kent
dropped his little gymbag beside the sofa, stepped over near the
shower, and
began to fumble with his damp trunks, hoping he wouldn't go all hard
again like
some fuckin' kid. Wes would be able to
see anything in that open shower -- that is, if he even noticed.
He heard Wes flipping on the TV and tuning in
to MTV. But after he'd stripped and
headed into the tiled shower, he was stunned when he turned at a sound
and
found Wes right behind him, busy pulling down his shorts.

"Soap's
over on that ledge, bud," said Wes as he dropped his baggies to his
ankles. "Kinda like bein' back in
the school gym with a shower like this, huh?"

When he’d
stripped, the bright whiteness from his hips to his thighs contrasted
sharply
against his deep tan. His soft cock hung
long and thick over two hefty eggs. A
fat vein trailed around the side of the cut shaft.

He stepped
in beside Kent and twisted the water on.

Somehow
Kent kept his dick from popping up while the boys soaped themselves,
but still
he snuck plenty of glances down there when he could get away with it
and tried
to guess at how long that dude's boner would stiffen up to.
Maybe even seven inches, he figured --
way
out-classing the five-and-a-halfer he'd repeatedly measured with care.
Still, he liked his own short, thin boydick
enough. The few girls who had played
with it did, too. When they fondled and
mouthed it, they always told Kent how much stiffer he could get than
the other
boys. He wondered how stiff Wes
got. Did he stick out like Kent did, or
did he poke up when he threw one? Had he
maybe even ever wondered about stuff like that himself?
But if Wes even took a casual glance down at
the other boy's shrunken cut cock, Kent never caught him.
No doubt, figured Kent. Stuff like
that never crossed a real straight dude's mind.

By the time
Wes was soaping his crotch, though, the wheels were really spinning in
Kent's
head. Everything about dudesex was
quickly bursting through the surface of his thoughts in this scene.
Hard as it was to admit, he really was queer
for this guy, and he just had to figure out a way to get further.
Scared?
Fuck, yeah. He'd never done nothin' with a dude before, and he was
sure Wes never had either, might even thrash him for bringing up the
idea. But would he ever get a chance to
get Wes
like this again? Alone, naked, cunt-less
for weeks. He watched Wes washing
himself slowly down there, both hands swirling soap around his
low-hanging nuts
and faintly thickening shaft, tuggin' it out a few times, his eyes
closed under
the spray as he sang softly along with Green Day pounding from the TV:
"when masturbation's lost its fun, you're fucking breaking!"

Kent just
knew he had to come up with some nasty plan here tonight.
He'd dreamed about it too long. It
was time to finally admit all the way what
he'd been wanting for a long time now -- to mess around with another
guy, with
Wes. Nothin' too queer -- just beating
him off. But he really wanted to get
into feelin' and jackin' this surferdude's long wet board.
But fuck
-- how?

Soon they
were trading places under the showerhead to rinse off.
As they stepped out, Wes tossed a towel to
Kent and the boys stood together drying themselves.
Wes put nothing back on but simply whipped
open the tiny refrigerator and threw Kent another beer while grabbing
his first. Fuck, the dude was so chill
with
himself. So Kent just stayed naked, too,
as Wes swept his arm across the sofa and sent a heap of wadded
t-shirts, dirty
underwear, sweaty jockstraps, and worn wax blocks flying.

"Have
a seat, bud," he said, and the boys sat bare-assed, side by side,
watching
MTV. This gave Kent the perfect angle
for sneaking more great sideways looks at that heavy beachboy dog
hangin'
across Wes' smooth thigh. He really
liked that thick vein that swirled around the shaft.
And he really liked the way the boy's big
cockhead swept back and flared up into a strong, deep-cut ridge.
Even totally soft, it was a complete turn-on
to see.

Hmm, it had
been awhile since he'd gotten any, Wes had said. Just
maybe he was horny enough already that
Kent could get him into it. Maybe just a
little on the dumb side, too. That might
help. And around this sofa there was a
faint odor of sperm. This must be where
he beats off, Kent thought, and not all that long since the last time
--
probably to one of these Penthouses or Playboys lying around.
Perfect.

In a little
while, he was ready with his careful strategy when Wes playfully
slapped Kent's
thigh and said, "so, bro, whatcha wanna do? Go
out 'n hunt for cunt?"

"Full
on! If you got the herb, I got the
matches. I haven't done it too much, but
I get off on it. So, you got some
weed?"

"Yeah,
in my bag." Kent leaned over and grabbed
the little gymbag from the floor beside them, fished out a small thin
joint,
and held it up to Wes. "It's sorta
weak though."

Mild as it
was, in a short while they were getting a little toasty.
Both boys were slumped down deep into the
sofa, slender tanned legs hanging long and casually out in front of
them,
passing the last of a roach back and forth as MTV looked better and
better.

"This
is wicked shit, bro," Wes finally giggled softly. "I'm
gettin' cashed. It's cool, huh?
I like the way it makes ya really get into
the music. Fuck, it makes everything
feel so right."

"Yeah,"
Kent mumbled softly, "makes ya jus' wanna lay here forever."
He paused just long enough, and then added,
"only thing missin' is some pussy to pound. This
stuff always makes me get all horny, but
not enough to get off my ass and go chase it."

There was a
quiet moment before Wes responded, his head back, eyes closed, "yeah .
. .
me, too." Then he fell silent
again, dreaming of chicks.

Finally, as
Kent laid the tail into an ashtray, he casually mentioned how hot the
chick on
the cover of a nearby Playboy looked.

Wes leaned
in close to him with a dazed grin and said, "hey, dude -- if yer
gettin'
horny, ya wanna see somethin' really chronic?
Check this
out." He reached down under the
front of the sofa and pulled out a hard-core porn magazine.
"I just got this thing down at that
dirty bookstore off the strand last night.
I never saw nothin' like it
before, bud. Check out these
pictures." Kent leaned in close and
Wes even slid closer until the boys were sitting with their hips almost
touching as Wes held the magazine between them.
He flipped slowly through the photos of young chicks, firm tits
and
glistening lips. Just past the magazine,
Kent could see Wes' dick slowly beginning to plump just a little.
So did Kent's.

Several
pages later the shots got harder, showing the women playing with their
pussies,
their wet fingers massaging their clits.
Kent was finding it a little tough to keep his dick down all the
way now
as he saw Wes' cock begin telescoping.
It had also grown a little fatter, although it was still mostly
soft. But he was sitting so close that
Kent could also faintly hear his new buddy's breathing increase.

He noticed
something else, too, even before Wes remembered it was there: on each
page now
there were smeared fingerprints, then an occasional dried splotch,
probably
splattering spit. Finally it became
obvious that the boy had slicked his bone, smacked himself silly, and
had
eventually sprayed a powerful load all over a spread of two girls going
at each
other. There were thick bubbly strings
of clear-whitish goo splashed across the paper.
It was so thick that in a few places it still looked just barely
damp. Then the next two pages were stuck
together
completely.

Wes began
giggling slightly with embarrassment as he tried to pry them apart, and
Kent
looked over to find the kid's face reddening.
Wes didn't mind dudes knowin' he spanked it, but he'd never even
told anyone how he jizzed his Penthouses
and now this thing. And fuck, here he
was showin' his wad to another boy --
way more than he'd figured he could ever let a dude in on.

"Uh .
. . yeah, I guess I sorta forgot I messed all over it like this,
man." He looked quickly away from
Kent's face. "I was pretty hammered
last night."

"It's
cool, bro. I like to beat off with dirty
pictures, too. I love porn."

Wes' blush
faded some. No worries, the dude was
bein' cool about the sperm. He looked at
Kent nastily. "Oh yeah?
Then I bet ya my nuts you'd get off on this
video I rented, too."

"Fuck yeah, man. Let's
see it!"

Wes hauled
himself up slowly and stood, his long wide surfboard hangin' out over
his big
beachballs, his prick thick and extended but not up yet.
He went over to the TV and flipped on the
VCR. As the tape started, Wes came back
over and sat beside Kent again, just about as close as before, but
trying to
look casual as he laid one hand a little over his crotch as the video
began. Kent sorta covered himself some,
too.

The boys
watched intently as the action kicked in quickly. "Actually,
I spunked it to this thing
last night, too," Wes soon admitted.
It's hot."

"A
couple loads, huh? Yeah, I jerk off a lot,
too. Especially when there's no hole to
jam it into."

Wes laughed
a little nervously. "Even when
there is -- for me at least. I'm
a horny fucker, dude. . . . Um, to tell
you the truth, actually I spurted
up three wads last night, first on the rag and then twice to the tape.
I was ragin'." He
paused a second. "Is that cool?
I mean, how much do you beat off, bud?"

"About
the same," Kent said lightly.
"Two, maybe three times a day, sometimes even more.
All the boys probably do it that much,
don'tcha think?"

Wes met
Kent's glance and smiled a little as he thought about it.
"Yeah, I guess so. I always just
sorta wondered if I did it too
much or somethin'. Pretty lame,
huh?"

“Woah, that
thrusts. It's sorta cool to finally talk
to a dude about this shit a little. I
never knew how to bring it up." Wes
let out a breath and gave Kent a sly, brotherly grin.
"And it's way cool to know ya spank it as
much as me, man."

The video
had turned hard pretty fast, and so had both boys now.
Kent was mostly sneaking looks down at Wes'
crotch rather than the video, and he peeked more and more as the dude
went
pretty quickly on the bone, first lengthening out fully, then bobbing
up higher
with each pulse until it was completely sticking up in the air past the
cover
of his hand, almost seven curved-up inches aimed toward the kid's face.
Kent's own dick followed right along,
stiffening rapidly into a hard young dagger that pointed straight at
the
ceiling.

Soon, hands
just fell to their sides as neither boy made any pointless attempt to
hide what
was happening. Even Wes figured they
were totally cool with each other about this stuff now.
Besides, what would any dude expect to have
happen sitting buttnaked watching a porn video?
Even with a buddy beside you, it wasn't gonna make a difference,
he
decided. Dudes were gonna bone it off
this stuff. Kent obviously wasn't shy
about it. So why not relax, just go ahead
and spike it openly in front of another cool-ass kid?
He was just able to be himself with his new
bud right there. Kent was cool.

As they
watched one pussy after another getting slammed to the hilt by studly
young
dudes, soon both boys were really throbbing.
Kent even saw Wes glancing over at his friend's total rod once
in a
while, too.

Still,
neither made a move as they sat and watched the tape, but soon Wes
squirmed a
little as though he wanted to say something.
Kent's blood was pounding. For as
scared as he was to really go for this, he figured after all the
jackoff talk,
porn scenes and pulsing boners, the boy probably wanted to beat off
badly by
now, even right then and there seeing each other whackin' it.
The squirm was Wes probably wondering how to
bring up the idea of getting some relief.
It was time. It could go at least
this far without sounding queer. Kent
tried to keep his nerves in check and softly cleared his throat.

"I
don't know about you, man, but I can't take too much more of this thing
without
doin’ something about it."

Wes glanced
over with blazing eyes and a flushed face but looked quickly back to
the
screen. He shifted again.
"Yeah.
Me neither. . . . Dude . . . do
you . . . ya think it would be cool if
we. . . ."

"Yeah,
man. Let's go ahead and do it.
I'm too hot here to worry about anybody
seein' me beatin' it, and I don't wanna miss the rest.
Besides, it's just us." Kent
reached down and curled his fingers
around his cock as Wes sighed with relief and reached for his own dick,
too.

"Yeah,
Kent. I knew you were solid.
I won't tell nobody we beat off in front of
each other, man."

At first
Wes' fist began a steady pumping but soon slowed as he realized the way
Kent
was taking his time, playing around all over his dick instead of going
for a
fast basic shoot. Kent wasn't gonna
hurry. He was gonna mess with himself
just right and really get up a long hot load.
This cool boy obviously didn't give a fuck about really getting
into it
in front of a bud, Wes realized, so why should he?
Just straight boys horny off their asses and
cool enough with each other to really let go.
Shweet.

So Wes
began to fondle his rod more slowly, too, settling in and relaxing,
letting
himself really fuck around on his cock in front of another guy the same
way he
did all alone. In fact, soon he was
getting off on it, sharin' a deep secret with another cool teenkid --
cuttin'
loose and showin' the kinda stuff he'd been doin' to himself since that
first
time in the bathroom when he was twelve.
And fuck, it was just as cool to finally see what another
straight
studly jockboy did in his bed every night, too.

In a short
while Wes was pretty much just openly watching Kent masturbate.
The other boy was scopin' his own strokes,
too, wasn't he? There was nothing wrong
about it, Wes told himself. Just boys
doin' what they always do alone, but finding out how another boy likes
feelin'
and jerkin' his cock just as much.

Kent
couldn't have asked for much more. He
didn't really think Wes was into dick, just curious about seeing
another rod,
seeing how another guy did himself, but it was so cool to finally be
getting
into this with him the way he'd dreamed of, and to see that Wes was
really
getting into the scene, too. If he was
lucky, the dude just might go horny enough for more.
It began to look promising, too, for soon
both boys had pretty much forgotten the video altogether.
They just slowly masturbated while they
looked at their own sticks and increasingly checked out each other's.

"You
sure got a big boner, Wes," Kent finally said while he fingered around
the
ridge of his bright red cockhead. He
reached for his nuts with his other hand.
His littler rod was spiked as stiff as it could get, sticking up
rigidly
in the hot, thick air. It was smelling
more like a locker room every minute as the boys began to sweat with
excitement.

"Aw,
it ain't all that big a nanno, dude,"
Wes replied, "is it?"
Maybe it was. He never saw
another boy with a stiffer before, but his was definitely longer and
thicker
than Kent's. He'd never given it any
real thought till now, but it was cool to discover he was hung bigger
than the
other boys. Or did they get bigger than
his? He was slowly sliding his circled
thumb and forefinger up and down his curved shaft as he let out a
compliment of
his own. "You got a fine throbber
there, too, man. Bet the babes love
takin' that hot fuckstick."

He wasn't
just sayin' it, either. Wes was getting
stiffer than ever from letting his eyes drink in his buddy's boner.
He'd never even seen one boinged at all
before,
and here Kent was totally on the bone and really messing around with it.
The part Wes liked best was when the dude
held it with a couple fingers deep in his thick black pubes and
squeezed. It made the whole fucker really
bulge, the
veins popping out on that straight slender shaft, the head swelling
thick and
red. It fuckin' looked
like hot sex. Fuck,
Wes realized, he really did like lookin' at another dick.
He was smashed off the scene and the horny
stuff it made him think of. He lazily
dreamed about what it looked like when the dude did a fuck or when he
shoved it
in some chick's mouth -- yeah, then spurtin' her face.
Fuck, he was gonna get to see this boy splash
his stuff. He really wanted to watch
that.

And fuck if
Kent didn't look just as interested in cock now as he was.
Righteous.
The guy was staring right back.
Maybe he was thinkin' about watchin' Wes jabbin' pussy with his
big
boner, too, watchin' him shoot off his longer, fatter gun.
It made Wes proud of his meat that another
boy was gettin’ cooked offa seein' it.
Yeah, he had a bone that even another dude
thought was hot. It
made him like jerkin' rod in front of the guy even more, showin' off
his stick.

After a few
more light strokes, he stopped jacking and fingered his fat vein,
making sure
Kent saw how it ran all the way from the scar to mid-shaft, then curved
its way
around and slid along the underside to the base. Then
he held the tip and pushed his curving
dick up in the air away from his stomach to stand there and throb.
With his other hand he fingered through his
dark blond pubes, reached down deep between his legs to fondle his big
swollen
ponyballs for Kent to see, and then wrapped his whole hand around his
shaft and
gave it some slow tight strokes. It made
his thick dickhead bulge even redder and wider over his stonehard shaft
as he
snuck a dirty peek over at Kent's face.
The boy's eyes were glued to Wes' rodded surfer stick.
Yeah, he thought with a rush of pride, he
thinks I got a rippin’ one. So does he,
man.

Kent grew
just a little bolder from seeing how the dude's face was getting
hornier by the
second, and from seeing how Wes was watching him jack it almost the
whole time
now. There was sweat on Wes'
forehead. He was even shuddering now and
then with lust. Time to crank it up a
gear.

"Hey,
Wes . . . do you ever put any stuff on yer boner?"

Wes
giggled, his face reddening a little again.
He didn't know other boys did that, too.
"Well . . . I guess I like to give it a good spit-polish
sometimes. That what ya mean?"

"'Spit-polish.' That's cool.
Yeah, like that, or other stuff, too.
I really like to slop it up, ya know?
Beat it off wet. Makes me
super-hard."

"Yeah,
me too," Wes grinned nastily.
"Actually, I always do it."
He glanced over shyly for approval.
"Well, it don't look like it could get us any harder here, bro,
but
yeah, let's spit-slick 'em." Wes
leaned forward and dumped a big one over his dickhead, eager now for
the boys
to show off all of their private jerkoff habits. He
began workin' it all over his rod as his
head settled back against the sofa again.
"Awwww, fuckin' mutinous.
Wet rubs are quewel."

He watched
intently as Kent spit in his hand, too, and slicked up his stick.
Both boners went instantly brighter and
redder under the slimy wetness. The
jockly smell of sweaty crotches and horny wet kid-dicks wafted up
quickly. It filled the room with their
sex, and it
revved their starving teen hormones higher.

"Man,
I never thought I'd be jackin' off with another guy," said Kent quietly
as
he added another wad of spit to his smacking boycock.
"It's gettin' fun."

"For
real," Wes agreed. He showed Kent
another beatoff trick and spat out a long shooter, nailing his rod
without
moving his head. The sound and smell of
the slurpy rubjobs was turning Wes on to the limit now.
Kent was right -- this was fun.

The whole
time they were spittin' and rubbin', all Wes could think of was how he
was
really getting off sharing all this with another boy: the way he liked
to boing
his dick around, pull on his heavy nuts, soak his rod in his spit --
stuff only
dudes could really relate to together but never did.
And it was just hectic how Kent was just as
loose with sharin' all his dirty games, too.
Fuck, other dudes were missin' out not doin' this.
Finally he just had to tell Kent -- tell the
dude just how cool masturbating with him was.

His voice
was severely horny and a little shakey: "bro . . . this is kinda cool,
huh? Lookin' at . . . dick; s-smackin'
it together." He searched Kent's
eyes and found them drilling his own.
"S’makin’ me nukkin’ futts," he went on, his eyes flying back
and forth between the hardons.
"Messin' on our . . . messin’ on our. . . ."

"Awwww,
fuuuck. Yeah, man.
Yer so cool. Chicks just don’t
talk the dirt like that. I gotta tell
ya, Kent, I’m gettin’ way fuckin' hot
off this . . . off doin' it with
ya." Wes' hand matched the twisty
strokes that Kent was now giving himself.
"Doin' it like you do."

Wes scooted
closer, the boys' legs now resting lightly against each other.
Kent could feel Wes' right arm sliding up and
down with the strokes as it pressed against Kent's side.
His own right hand was slapping his hardon
around, making it spring up and down. He
felt Wes' lips move close and hot near his ear, the breathing heavy and
erratic.

"Who
gives a flyin' f-fuck, dude?" muttered Wes. He
was lost in jackin' his dick while scopin'
his buddy's dirty rubbin'. Nah, this was
better than a buddy, better than a brother even. He
pressed himself tighter into Kent and let
his head rest against the other boy's.
"We don't need the tape, bro.
We got some hot stuff right here," he whispered over the hiss of
the VCR.

"Yeah,
no shit," Kent whispered back. He
gripped his dick at the base, letting Wes get a tight close shot at the
beet-red stiffness. Wes' breaths went
really unstable. He was hot, horny and
ready for it. Fuck, he had
to want it. Time for Kent to go for the
big move. He couldn't believe it.
He was actually gonna live out the whole
fantasy. He knew the rest was gonna
happen.

"Ummm
. . . hey bro," he whispered against Wes.
"I'm no queer or anything . . . but . . . you think I could cop
a
quick feel off yers? Just to see what
another boner feels like?"

"Fuck yeah, dude. Go
for it." Wes had been thinking of maybe
swipin' a grip
for a couple minutes now, too, but hadn't wanted to push anything.
This is perfect, he thought.
"Heh heh," he giggled with what he
thought was a sly snicker, "I guess I may as well find out what another
cock feels like, too. Ya mind?"

Kent just
smiled back, and then both boys chuckled nastily. So,
like two giggling, playful young kids,
the boys let go of their hard young wieners and reached their closest
hand over
to the other's rigid rod. As their
fingers curled around each other's bonehardon, each boy let out a soft
moan,
partly from his first feel of a buddy's hot, sweaty, spit-wet hand
wrapping
around his own stiff teencock, and also from his own hand finding the
white-hotness and steel-hardness of another dude with a fully
pumped-up,
blood-surging boner going.

"Yer
dick's so wicked-hard, man," Kent breathed as he finally got to handle
rod
on Wes the way he'd beat off fantasizing about for so long.

"Man,
that fuckstick on you feels so . . . so sexed up, too, bro," Wes
whispered
excitedly. "What a
throbber." He felt and squeezed all
up and down Kent's rod and even reached between the kid's legs to
fondle his
aching nuts. "Man, I bet these
fuckin' nads're about ready to blow, huh buddyboy?"

They
fondled dick on each other another minute or so, but then Kent could
feel Wes'
hand starting to hesitate, the guy probably wondering if Kent thought
it was
cool for the two straight kids to keep going on. To
let him know, and to make it Wes who
committed to it, Kent spit in his free palm, dropped the glob over his
cockhead, then let his right hand fall back to his side.

The dude
was hooked for more all right. His hand
picked up speed excitedly, getting his buddy slippery.
Yeah, thought Wes. It was just what
he was hopin' for. Kent was cool about
gettin' into it heavier,
letting him really jack it off for him awhile.
But he wanted to make sure Kent did him, too.
So without moving his head from Kent's, Wes
hocked another hard squirt of spit at his dick, and he groaned as the
boy smeared
the stuff over his bone.

"Only
problem with a spitjob--" said Wes in a minute while he pumped and
worked
Kent's rod. "--is it dries up so
fuckin' fast."

"Yeah,"
Kent said as his fingers started skidding on Wes' dulling rod.
"And then it's hard to stroke it as smooth
-- like this. Hey Wes, I got some suntan
lotion on me. I never did it with the
stuff before, but ya wanna try gettin' off in that?"

"Sweet,"
Wes mumbled, his eyes only half-open in the glow of trading warm wet
strokes. He didn't want Kent to let go
of him, but they both had to as the boy leaned over to reach into his
bag. Wes wanted Kent's hand on his rod
again
something awful, though, so as Kent pulled out the bottle and sat back
up, Wes
shoved himself close and let his head fall against Kent's again.
"So lemme feel it, buddyboy," Wes
whispered as he watched Kent open the lotion.
"Bet it's gonna feel radical.
I mean, ya don't mind keepin' this tradeoff on the rods goin' a
little
more, do ya? It's pretty gnar, don'tcha
think?"

Kent
smiled, squirted some of the stuff into his right palm for a better
grip, then
leaned in and reached across.
"Lemme know how it feels, bro," he murmured as he snaked his
slippery fist around Wes' bone and slathered the suntan lotion all up
and down
its length.

"Aw, fuck, bro. That's
fuckin'-ass frothin’, man. Don't
stop."

"Frothin',
huh?"

"Fuckin' frothin', dude! Keep
doin' that, will ya? Oh man, I've had
nothin' but my own fist for
so fuckin' long now, bro. And . . . and
I wanna feel it the way you jerk yerself, man.
Feel the way you beat off."

"Yer
gonna, bro. I know what you want,
man. It's cool. I'm
gonna get you all the way off in my hand,
buddy." His slippery fingers spread
the lube all over Wes' throbbing hardon and slid down to coat the kid's
nuts,
too.

"Awwww,"
groaned Wes. "I promise I won't
tell nobody we did this. Yer such a cool
dude, man. Coolest boy I ever met, doin'
this for me. Gonna spank it for ya, too,
bro; gonna whip yer big studload right into my fist.
Gimme some o' that shit." He held
out his right hand, and Kent filled
his palm with lotion.

Wes'
fingers reached down and enveloped Kent's burning cock, slickin' the
kid down
totally. He started pumping
sturdily. Oh yeah, doin' a dick -- and
gettin' off on it, he thought. And
gettin' off of bein' jacked off by another boy at the same time.
Kent was sliding his wet fist up and down
Wes' bone a little different, but it made it even more perfect.
It was better than rubbin' himself.
It was sex.
And it was sex the way only dudes really into doin' their own
dicks
could do it to each other. He twisted
his fist around Kent's boner, too, as he slowly stroked him off, doing
everything he could to make the kid feel just as good off another guy's
hand as
he was. He had to give the best rub of
his life. He really wanted Kent to get
off on it, to jerk him off even better than the kid could do himself,
to make
him fuckin' squirt off like a firehose.
Shit, he couldn't believe how fuckin' bad he wanted to see the
boy spray
his stuff, feel it pumpin' from his nuts, racin' up through his dick,
whizzin'
in the air, whappin' out all over the guy -- man, maybe even feelin'
some o'
that nasty jockload spurtin' on him.

Just then
the hissing tape clicked at the end of the reel and began to rewind as
the beat
of MTV blasted out in the middle of an old Modern English song: ". . .
I'll stop the world and melt with you. . . ." Wes
snuggled tight as he could as his new
best buddy slid his sweaty left arm around him while the right pumped
in Wes'
crotch. Their bodies fit together just
right. Their heads pressed together as
they whacked each other off, Kent's left arm reaching further, sliding
under
Wes' wet, hairy armpit to his glistening chest, rubbing up across a
tight pec,
scraping the stiff tit. Their cheeks
pressed hotly together as they stared at the handjobs they were trading
and
kicked into the pace harder.

"Awww,
fuckin' beat me, dude," Wes
moaned. Kent's slippery fist was sliding
firmly up and down his rigid hardon, working back and forth over the
curve,
bashing into that thick ridge each time he slid upward before opening
his hand
just slightly enough to get up over Wes' dark red dickhead.
Then he twisted his fingers over the head of
Wes' fat rod before rubbing his hand back down onto the hard wide shaft
again. That thick vein felt like it was
gonna explode under his wet palm. He
could feel the blood pounding through the boy's hard cock as it swelled
with
each hammer of Wes' heart. He could feel
the heartbeat, too, right under his other hand as he was reaching
around rubbing
over Wes' slick, sweaty chest and playing with his hard nipple.
Wes was breathing harder with each stroke
across his smooth chest, with each dive Kent's knowing fist took down
his wet,
throbbing shaft. Once in a while Kent
reached even further, cupping the heavy nuts in his fingers and
fondling the
lightly hairy sack as the heel of his hand rubbed back and forth across
the
underside of his bud's aching cock.

Kent could
feel the big nuts jamming up tight against the base of the rod now each
time
his fist hit bottom. He savored every
second of holding Wes' big wide stonehard boner in his fist as the kid
reached
the limit, the exact shape and feel of Wes' stiff young surferboy rod
burning
into his memory for replay during a million future whackoffs
remembering this
night.

Wes' feet
were kicking around, his legs squirming, and soon his hot slim smooth
little
butt started humping jerkily off the sofa as he began to repeatedly
thrust his
stiff stick hard and deep through his buddy's fist, right at the edge
of
jizzin'. Suddenly he groaned deeply and
then cut into a high thin whine as he held his ass an inch off the
sofa, his body
completely rigid. One long hard burning
squirt of teenboy fire hosed straight as an arrow above his chest,
above his
face, and blew straight through that arc of bright hair over his
forehead, half
of it splattering all over the top of his head and down his shoulders
and back,
and the other half whizzing right on past the back of the sofa.
He gripped Kent's rod tight and held on as
his butt crashed down again and his body lurched forward.
"Aaaaahhh, fuuuuuck!"

Long
streams of thick white surfsperm were jetting out, spraying Wes in the
face,
splashing over his neck and chest, blasting against Kent's left hand
and
forearm as the boy smoothed the silky slick sperm over Wes' pec and tit.
"Yeah, you fuckin' hot-ass studfuck,
blast that fuckin' goo out, Wes."

"Fuckin'
jack my rod, dude," Wes panted gruffly.
“So fuckin' epic, man, yer
beatin' it so right! I'm
. . . fuckin' chuckin' Chunks!" Wes
ground his wet face against Kent's and
shuddered as the boy milked and worked him, rubbing strong and hard,
stroking
up thick gushes of his horny, smelly wad that smacked and studded
against Wes'
stomach and started fountaining over Kent's fingers and wrist.
The air filled with the harsh smell of Wes'
tight-packed nuts unloading his blow and the loud sloshing of Kent's
tight
fingers slogging through the slurpy syrup all over the boy's big
beachcock.

Through it
all, Wes never lost his grip on Kent's brickstiff boner.
And even though he was still spewing wads of
his chunky spunk out over Kent's hand and arm and both the boys'
thighs, just
as soon as he could regain a little control Wes dug in and began
grinding away
on Kent's cock again. "Fuckin'
whammin' it on ya, buddy. Gonna make you
dump that fuckin' load here, too, Kent.
Just as fuckin' nasty as you did me, bro. C'mon,
fuckerboy, gimme a fuckin' fistful o'
that hot dicksauce, you stud."

Wes leaned
over and reached in with his other hand now, too, and began to fondle
and
stroke Kent's boiling nuts. "Yeah,
ya hot fuck, yer horny young teenboy nads're ready ta blast me, huh
kid?"

Kent could
only moan but kept feeling and stroking the sticky hardon in his hand
as he
felt Wes take him all the way.

"C'mon,
Kent. Jizz it off for me, buddy.
I wanna see ya cream, kid.
Wanna feel you squirt yer stuff so bad, bro."
Wes fingered the boy's balls until they
pulled clear up, and then he rubbed his palm over them as they hugged
the base
of the kid's rod. The boy was there.

Kent
gripped Wes to him tightly with his left arm as he felt himself fall
over the
edge. Wes' face was in close with both
of his hands working all over Kent's stiff boner and aching nuts:
"c'mon,
bro. Jizz it, fuckerboy."
Suddenly a big thick mass of the kid's hot
glue busted out and burst up in the air as Wes slid his hand into
Kent's pubes and
squeezed the boner firmly.

"Yeeeaaaaahhhhh,"
Wes huffed huskily, and right in the middle of the word, a hard spray
of Kent's
seed squirted straight in and splattered against the roof of Wes' mouth.
"Fuckin' awesome," he shouted
as another hot whap of thick ranky teenload streaked
across his pearly
whites. Wes gasped with the dense
odor as squirt after squirt of the boy's ripe tangy jockload rinsed him
down. And not just his mouth, man.
Kent was hosin' his jockboy fuckjam all over
Wes. Thick slimy streams of Kent's
horniest, clumpy teenkid spunk blasted the boy and ran down his neck
and chest.

It wasn't
bothering Wes one bit, either. He was
snickering and snorting and calling Kent a hot-sex fuckerboy with every
new
whizz that blasted against him. He
pumped off Kent's bone hornier than ever, milking out every last pellet
of the
kid's rich cream until finally Kent was squirming and clutching him and
beggin'
the boy to let up. Finally, he slowed
his strokes, leaned back against the sofa and began to just fondle the
soaked
rod in his fist the same as Kent was still doing to him.

"Man,
ya really dumped one on me, stud," Wes chuckled mildly.
"That was cool -- feelin' a dude's fresh
jizz squirt out." He paused, let
the heavy load that had nailed his mouth roll around in there a second,
then
added, "tastes pretty rich, buddyboy.
You really popped a nasty knot."

"So
did you, fucker. Fuck, that was awesome,
bro."

Wes
released Kent's cock and wrapped his dripping arm around his buddy,
pulling him
close. "Sure was, bro.
Told ya I was a horny fucker." He
slid his fingers up and down over Kent's
chest and arm for several minutes as Kent snuggled into him, his face
falling
into Wes' sopping chin and neck.

"So
cool ya like to beat off as much as I do, man," Wes finally whispered
dreamily. "So, dood--"
Wes started.
Kent looked up lazily into the boy's bright blue eyes.
Wes' eyebrows jumped nastily: "wanna do
it again?"